Patience
by sketchnurse
Summary: Maybe he would wait, until she realized that her happiness couldn’t last, not really, not when the gaping chasm in between was so inviting, now that she had seen what it had done to him. Post-ep for 6.09.


It was with some sort of ironic, bitter sweetness, that House looked back upon what he had done to his relationship with Cuddy.

On the one hand, she had been completely alienated to the point that she wanted nothing to do with him, aside from his prestigious reputation as the world's best asshole, but, on the other, she had finally shown some strength in standing up for what she believed she needed, albeit in a childish, over-the-top manner.

What _was_ he doing for Thanksgiving?

Well, apparently he was driving back home for three hours, the last bites of an annoyingly well-made turkey sandwich lingering in his mouth, the anger at having been tricked into driving all that way for a lonely housekeeper and the knowledge that no, he really _wasn't_ wanted in her life, kept just simmering below the surface.

Well, his secret plan would just have to change a little bit, wouldn't it?

It was easy to lie to Lucas, because most of it wasn't really a lie.

Sure, he played up the 'I'm so pathetic', because he knew that one always pulled at the heartstrings, but the hurt that he felt?

Oh, that was _all_ real, for who could have realized that Lisa Cuddy, self-made pioneer of family values, would be the one to strike the hardest blow in the war that their little game of cat-and-mouse had turned into?

"I love her."?

Had there ever been a time when that was truer than now?

Yeah, it made a whole shitload of sense _now_, because obviously there really _was_ a secret balance in the universe, and he had tipped it, becoming nice, and she had compensated by turning into a completely cold-hearted bitch.

Maybe if he started his Vicodin habit up again, and insulted Wilson some more, she would turn back into the Cuddy that he knew, foolish at times, but always standing up for what she thought was right.

His wellbeing had once been what she thought was right.

Now, it seemed, she was willing to destroy him to keep him away from her perfect little family.

Nothing more to keep himself from turning into who he_ had_ been anymore, was there?

She was happy, he was miserable; it was the way things had always been, right?

Except she wasn't _really_ happy, was she?

How could she be, with the guilt of having strung him along in a scheme worthy of anything he had come up with in the past, clouding over her life?

At least, that's the way it _should_ have been.

But perhaps she had really given up on caring about him, perhaps she really had become someone who could detach herself from her work life, and maybe, somewhere, when he was trying to find himself amidst all of his failures, she had actually moved herself on, to the point that the barrier she had built around herself to prevent anything that would break her heart again was so strong he couldn't get through it, not with his clumsy attempts at goodness.

Maybe he wasn't _meant_ to be this person, not when someone he was so sure loved him couldn't accept the change to be genuine.

Hadn't it _killed_ her, though, seeing him go to a mental hospital?

Hadn't she cried for weeks, knowing that when she went to his office, it would be covered in sheets, a reminder that her most annoying employee had been reduced to a character in One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest?

Perhaps not.

Perhaps she was colder, and stronger, than he had realized.

And that, made her worthy of him.

Her evil, it was surprising and crushing and childish and… so much like his.

Maybe not two sides of the same coin anymore; perhaps they were the same side of two coins.

Maybe he loved her now more strongly than he had loved her before.

Maybe he would wait, until she realized that her happiness couldn't last, not really, not when the gaping chasm in between was so inviting, now that she had seen what it had done to him.

He would wait for the day, and he would quietly be on the side, always ready with a remark, or a gesture, something that would send her reeling over to him, because that was what he loved most of all.

Her fire, her passion, her strength in the face of disaster, her beauty, her caring, her ridiculousness… he would get it all someday.

Their relationship, it was caustic, not only for them but everyone around them, their careful manipulations of each other were insidious… and he wouldn't have it any other way.

If she wanted to pretend that he would hurt her at the first sign of weakness, then she could go ahead.

Because he already knew all of her weaknesses, and he could see through nearly every smokescreen that she put up.

One day, she would be finished with pretending, and on that day, he would be ready.

He was proud of her, through his pain and feeling of betrayal.

There were little bits of the old Cuddy shining through this teenaged girl 2.0, and when they made their way out, he would be ready.

When she no longer felt the need to prevent him from getting into any part of her life, when it was no longer necessary to make him drive three hours away from where she would be, enjoying the Thanksgiving dinner she had promised him, when it wasn't a requirement to put her walls up every morning for him, he would be ready.

In the mean time, he would go about business as usual, looking for the slip in her perfect façade.

When it fell away completely, he would be ready, a knowing smirk on his face, welcoming her with open, mocking arms.


End file.
